


let the wind carry us to the clouds

by always_an_anxious_mess



Category: Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Arguing, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Blood and Injury, Creeper Hybrid Sam | Awesamdude, Family Dynamics, Flying, Gen, Good Friend Tubbo (Video Blogging RPF), Good Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Healing, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Sam | Awesamdude, Prosthetics, Protective Sam | Awesamdude, Protective Tubbo (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Recovery, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Swearing, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur takes none of Phil and Techno’s shit, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Winged TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Wilbur Soot, chase scenes, hybrid dynamics, preening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_an_anxious_mess/pseuds/always_an_anxious_mess
Summary: After Doomsday, Tommy goes to the one person he can trust for help, the person who had sworn to protect him, even if that protection had been bought.What he had hoped would be a simple, quick interaction led to Tommy realizing maybe he didn’t have to be alone. Maybe he could learn to rely on others again.Maybe he could heal.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 126
Kudos: 1553
Collections: Found family to make me feel something





	1. Recovery

“Are you sure you’re alright with me doing this?”

Tommy exhales shakily, grinding his teeth together and digging his nails into his thighs. “I don’t have anyone else who can do it.”

He hears Sam inhale sharply from behind him, clearly not expecting that answer. The soft hiss that accompanies it releases the faint smell of gunpowder from the creeper hybrid, and Tommy nearly gags.

_Gunpowder in a ravine, as cruel fingers dig into the flesh of his arm and jaw, whispering words about traitors and explosions. Dark brown feathers wrapping around him in an embrace that is not comforting, but entrapping._

_Gunpowder on a battlefield, blood running down the wall from a diamond sword. Dark brown feathers stained red, black feathers shaking from the shape of his sobbing father’s wings._

_Gunpowder on a beach. A green hoodie and a smiling, cruel mask. Pain in his shoulder blades as muscles that were being developed_ _strained against his skin._

_Gunpowder from a crater. Laughter from black feathers, from red feathers, from a smiling mask. His own white ones rubbing against his back, concealed by the brown coat that was not his, but he had taken to wearing as if it was._

“I’m sorry,” Sam apologized, the gunpowder smell fading from the air.

Tommy shook his head. “Don’t be. I just— I’m being a little bitch about it, I know. I gotta get over this.”

“You’re allowed to be traumatized Tommy, you don’t have to get over anything. You’ve been through a lot, you’re allowed to have triggers.”

“It’s a part of you, I can’t just ask you to stop,” Tommy retorted. “I need to get over it. I’m just being a little bitch about it anyway.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but Tommy could practically feel the amount of concern radiating from the creeper hybrid.

It was true that he didn’t have anyone else to do it. Tubbo was busy with his nukes and Snowchester, and whenever Tommy seemed to visit, Jack was always there.

Don’t get him wrong, Jack had been a good friend, once. But considering both Jack and Niki were failing at hiding their resentment towards him, and he suspected they had plotted to kill him and quite nearly succeeded, he didn’t exactly trust Jack anymore. He didn’t want to ask Tubbo to do this for him if Jack was going to be there, because he couldn’t trust Jack to cut him down once his back was turned, regardless of whether Tubbo was there or not.

He always imagine that he’d do this with Phil, Techno, and Wilbur. They were his family, and they knew how to do it just as well as he did, because he’d grown up helping them with theirs. But Wilbur was dead, and even if he wasn’t, Tommy wasn’t sure if he could trust him. Phil and Techno had made it clear that he wasn’t family anymore, so how was he supposed to trust them with this?

The only other person he might have trusted this with was Ranboo, but Ranboo was hiding up with Phil and Techno, so he couldn’t be trusted either.

So once the pain got bad enough, he sucked it up and went to the one person who had sworn to protect him.

Sam.

“You’re going to have to show me how to do this,” Sam said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’ve never really...”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Tommy mumbled, tugging at the coat he was still wearing. He was stalling, and they both knew it. He had a reason to be nervous, right? This was a valid fear, right? He had fucking asked for this, he had specifically gone to Sam for help, but he was terrified of actually going through with it.

Fuck, it hurt. He knew he had to do this, because he could ruin them if he didn’t. They hurt like a bitch, and it needed to be done. Like ripping off a bandage that was stuck because of dried blood. He had to do this. He had to do this. He had to—

“Hey.”

Tommy jumped, eyes widening and refocusing. When had Sam gotten in front of him? When had his hand rested on his shoulder? When had he curled into himself?

“I can sit here, if you want?” Sam offered, eyes crinkling in a way that showed he was smiling beneath his mask. “So you can see my hands.”

Tommy took a shaky breath in and closed his eyes briefly before opening them again, sitting up straight. “Doing the undersides first might be easier,” he agreed quietly. “So you can see how to do it.”

Sam nodded, and Tommy could practically imagine that smile getting bigger.

Tommy tugged on Wilbur’s jacket, hands shaking too bad to really take it off. His heart was beating a million miles a minute and he was still so nervous.

He wasn’t nervous, he was still fucking terrified.

_You have to do this,_ he told himself, digging his nails into his palms in order to stay focused. He didn’t notice his eyes slipping shut again as another wave of terror ran through him, hard enough to make his whole body shiver. _You have to do this. You have to do this. You need HELP._

Hands found they’re way into his own, scales smooth as they pried his fingers from his palms and interlocked with his. Tommy was slightly embarrassed that he immediately latched onto them, holding tightly onto Sam’s hands in an effort to stay grounded, in an effort to keep himself from falling in the fear that threatened to drown him.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Sam reassured him, squeezing his hands slightly.

Tommy took a deep breath. _You have to do this. Sam won’t hurt you. Sam doesn’t have a reason to hurt you._

He forced his eyes open, blinking a bit to clear the blurriness from his vision. He carefully disentangled his hands from Sam’s, reaching up to grab the edges of Wilbur’s coat. He took another deep breath, staring at his lap, before pulling it off his shoulders and down. Tommy pulled his arms from the sleeves and gathered the coat in his hands, balling it up and putting it in his lap.

His wings shifted, still pressed tightly against his back as they had been for so long, before slowly stretching outwards.

He saw the moment Sam saw them, the way his green eyes widened and eyebrows raised, his jaw falling slack beneath the fabric mask that covered his nose and mouth.

Tommy’s wings ached terribly, the muscles weak from the lack of use. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were completely atrophied, considering he had never used them since they came out.

_Pain._

_Horrible, excruciating pain that radiated from his entire back._

_He was curled in a ball on the floor in Ghostbur’s little cabin in Logstedshire, sobbing. Dream wouldn’t be here until tomorrow, Ghostbur had disappeared days ago. No one was there but he still cried out for someone, anyone to come and save him from this. It hurt so badly._

_Breathing was impossible, his ribs expanding against the muscles in his back was agonizing. His breaths were fast and shallow in order to make it less painful, near hyperventilating as tears ran down his cheeks and his nails scrabbled for purchase on the wooden floors._

_He screamed until his throat was raw and he could taste blood. He cried until he had no more tears left to give and his head pounded from dehydration. His back arched and trembled and he just wanted it to stop._

_Even jumping into lava had to be a better fate than this. At least the lava would kill him quicker._

_It was too early for this. His wings weren’t supposed to come in until he was eighteen. He was too young. This wasn’t supposed to be happening now._

_He wasn’t supposed to be alone._

_He was supposed to have Wilbur humming him songs as he stroked his hair. He was supposed to have Phil holding him and shushing him through every contraction. He was supposed to have Techno running cold water over the hypersensitive, hot skin of his back and telling him he was doing well, that it wouldn’t last long, and he’d finally be able to fly with them once he was done._

_He wasn’t supposed to be alone._

_Tommy wasn’t sure when his body gave up on him. All he knew was he woke up in a puddle of blood, soft downy feathers rubbing against the irritated skin of his back and sticking together in clumps._

_Tommy wasn’t sure how long he had lain there, trembling, before he forced himself up and onto the beach. Plopping himself into the water and washing the blood off of himself, ignoring the sharp sting of salt when the water ran down his back._

_Tommy wasn’t sure when he had picked up Wilbur’s coat and hidden his wings, barely two feet long each at the time, beneath the_ _warm fabric._

_Tommy wasn’t sure how long he sat there, on the beach. A series of soft, pathetic, raspy chirps and coos left his mouth, akin to those made by a baby bird. His mind made him call for his flock, his family. But no one came._

_The very next day, Dream blew up Logstedshire._

His wings were trembling from the strain of being spread so much. They were bigger than he remembered, having been tucked into his coat for weeks, never being let out, not even to sleep. The only times they were out was when he bathed, and he refused to look at them during that, trying to avoid the inevitable.

But they were still tiny. Much too small for any real flying. They weren’t supposed to be this small, weeks after coming out. They were supposed to be full grown by now, up to ten feet each. Not a little over four feet each.

The ache was growing stronger the longer he tried to keep them held up, so he let them droop, dragging on the stone floor of Sam’s base.

The feathers were badly unkempt, many broken or bent. They were a soft off-white color, with the tips of his primaries and secondaries a bright red that faded to white.

They were pretty.

Or they would be, if they had been cared for properly.

He was supposed to be proud of them, proud of his coloration and proud of how big they were. But he couldn’t be. Not when their growth had been stunted by his refusal to use them, not when he would probably never fly with them.

“They’re gorgeous,” Sam whispered, awe in his tone.

“They’re ruined,” Tommy croaked out, feeling tears prick in the corners of his vision and falling before he could stop them. He ruthlessly scrubbed at his face to get them to go away. “They’re too small. I didn’t take care of them properly, so they didn’t grow as big as they should. I won’t ever be able to fly.”

Sam didn’t respond for a moment. “Says who?”

“They’re full grown,” Tommy said bitterly. “They should be, anyway. I didn’t use them at all, didn’t build up any muscle in them, so they’re smaller than they should be. They won’t hold my weight.”

“How do you know they won’t get any bigger?”

“They stop growing after a few weeks.”

“You’re sure that if you take care of them now, you still won’t be able to fly?”

Tommy hesitated. No, he wasn’t sure. He only had Techno and Wilbur’s wings to go off of, since Phil had gotten his ages and ages ago. They had both taken care of theirs immediately, exercising them and preening them. They stopped growing after a few weeks, because that’s what they were supposed to do.

He had no idea, really.

“Here,” Tommy changed the subject, lifting up his right wing and presenting the underside to Sam. A soft voice in the back of his head cooed at this action, since you only present the underside of your wings to _flock_ , but Sam was just helping, that’s all. Stupid hindbrain or whatever the fuck it was called. “You straighten ‘em like this, see? And if any look like this, just yank ‘em out, they’ll do more harm than good...”

Tommy trailed off, fingers combing through the soft feathers and making sure each of the barbs were interlocked correctly.

This was so weird. It felt weird, and it was weird to be doing it to himself instead of Techno, or Wilbur, or Phil. These were his feathers, not Techno’s blood red that faded into pale baby pink, not Wilbur’s dark brown and gold, not Phil’s black and white. These were his.

He pulled his hands away and clenched his jaw, his fingers curling and uncurling. “You can try, if you want.”

Sam blinked at him, before reaching forward uncertainly and brushing his fingers up against the feathers gently, clearly trying to get Tommy used to the touch.

The minute that they mind contact, his hindbrain reared up and crooned happily, and Tommy had to fight down the urge to mimic the noise as Sam started to sort through his feathers.

The scattered scales on Sam’s hands were surprisingly warm, not cool like Tommy had been expecting. They were also rougher than he had thought, but in a good way.

“Do I pull out this one?” Sam asked, picking a soft off-white feather that was so broken Tommy was surprised it was still hanging on between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, here,” Tommy laid his hand over Sam’s. “You don’t have to pull very hard, just—” he cut himself off with a gentle pulling motion downwards, guiding Sam’s hand. The shaft snapped with a gentle pop, and the spot burned only slightly. “Doesn’t take much to yank out the bad ones. Just a little pressure. If you have to do any more than that, it’s probably still a good one and you just have to straighten it out.”

Sam cradled the feather for a moment as Tommy released his hand, inspecting the off-white color, before laying it on the ground beside him.

“If you’re not sure if you should tug it out or not, just tug on it like I showed you. If it’s still good, I’ll tell you.”

Sam nodded, returning to combing through the feathers on Tommy’s wing.

The whole time, Tommy’s bird brain was cooing and letting off soft, contented chirps. It chanted “flock flock flock” in the back of his head as Sam worked, and Tommy was struggling hard to keep the stupid thing down.

Sam was just helping. He was being nice. He wasn’t flock, because Tommy didn’t have a flock. The bird brain was just stupid.

Once Sam got the hang of things, he actually worked quite fast. He was methodical with each feather, making sure each one was neat and smooth. He got pretty good at which ones were good and which weren’t by the time he shifted to behind Tommy to do the backside of his wings.

“Thank you,” Tommy blurted out, unable to handle the silence anymore. “I— You didn’t have to do this. I know I’m paying you to build the hotel and all, but you didn’t have to agree to help me with this.”

Sam’s hands paused for a moment, before resuming. “I’m glad I could help.”

“I’m serious,” Tommy insisted. “This— I’m not even paying you to do this. I could, of course, maybe add a few more diamonds to what I gave you for the hotel—”

“You don’t have to,” Sam cut him off. “It’s nice, actually. Uh... knowing you trust me enough. I know this has to be hard for you.”

It _was_ hard. It was hard to be sitting on the floor, his back presented to Sam. It was hard to trust Sam not to send a knife through his back. It was hard to be relaxed, even when his hindbrain trusted Sam wholeheartedly. It was so hard.

But he was doing it.

Tears were in his eyes, and he didn’t even know why. His heart was beating fast, but not from fear. It was from something else that Tommy refused to name because this was _Sam_. Sam who had only been protecting him because Tommy paid him to.

His hindbrain disagreed. It said that Sam was flock, that Sam cared, and that he was _safe_ with Sam.

He knew what he was feeling, but he was terrified to be feeling it. He didn’t want to feel it. WHY THE HELL WAS HE FEELING LIKE THIS? This was Sam, and he was helping just to be nice. Stop it brain, stop right now!

“Are you okay?”

Tommy’s breath hitched, blinking and realizing that he was trembling all over and that Sam had withdrawn his hands. His feathers had puffed up, not in a content way but in a nervous one, drawing closer to his back instead of spread out like they’d been before.

He curled in on himself, hunching his shoulders and curling his hands into fists in the fabric of Wilbur’s coat.

“Hindbrain’s being weird,” Tommy mumbled, only half-lying. The hindbrain was part of it, but part of it was his normal brain too.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Just... I don’t know. Give me a minute?”

“Of course.”

_“What the fuck happened to your wings, Techno?”_

_The man in question turned, glancing at the ruffled, disarrayed feathers and shrugged, turning back to his book. “I suppose they got a bit messed up when I was fleeing L’manburg after they tried to execute me. They’re fine, I’ll preen them later.”_

_“No need to be a bitch about it,” Tommy flicked Techno’s ear, making his older brother snap around with a glare. The blonde just barely managed to hide his flinch at the sudden movements. “I didn’t forget how to preen during exile, dickhead. Scoot. You can still read your nerd book while I clean you up.”_

_Techno let out a long suffering sigh before turning in his chair, presenting his wings to Tommy. The teen sat down in his own chair at the kitchen table, dragging it over until he was sat behind his older brother._

_Starting the preening felt normal. Tommy had done this dozens of times for his brothers, so this was practically routine for him._

_But as he continued, there was something off. He noticed it in Techno before he realized something was different to him as well. The way Techno’s feathers were stiff beneath his hands, and his wings were subconsciously twitching closer to his back, but Techno almost seemed to be forcing them to stay open so Tommy could work._

_Tommy’s hindbrain hadn’t been as strong back then, having only shown up two or three days before, but it kept telling him the same thing as he preened Techno’s feathers. The longer it went on, the stronger it seemed to be getting._

_The bird brain was happy about the preening, but unsure of Techno himself. It kept whining about betrayal and Tommy not being safe, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore._

_He sucked in a breath and suddenly yanked his hands away after a few minutes of this, heart beating so hard it felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest. Techno also scooted away, drawing his wings closer to himself and clearing his throat nervously._

_Tommy stood up and pushed his chair back where it had been before he moved it, feeling a shiver going through his tiny, sore wings that were still tucked beneath Wilbur’s jacket._

_“You pulled away first,” Techno said accusatorially, looking towards him with a question in his eyes._

_Tommy hesitated to respond, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and feeling his wings flutter. He stilled them, glad his back was facing away from Techno so his older brother couldn’t see the movement. “It felt weird,” Tommy finally said. “Different. Plus, you seemed tense the whole time. I thought I better stop just in case.”_

_Why was he hiding his wings? He didn’t know. Maybe it was because he didn’t want Techno to feel guilty for not being there when they came in. Maybe it was becausehe was ashamed of them, ashamed that he was alone when it happened. Maybe it was because his hindbrain was insistent that Techno was not flock and he wasn’t safe here._

_Whatever it was, he kept them underneath the coat._

_He was avoiding eye contact, he knew, but he could picture the look Techno was giving him. He knew his older brother didn’t believe him._

_“Okay,” Techno relented, turning back to his book. “They’re fine now anyhow.”_

_They weren’t. Tommy had barely finished one wing before he pulled away, the other was still a mess. But he couldn’t bring himself to finish the job._

_Tommy slid down the ladder, down the levels of the house until he was in the little hole he’d carved for himself when he first arrived._

_His bird brain didn’t like it down here. He was too far down, too far away from the sky._

_It was safer down here though._

The same thing that happened back then was happening now, but the situation had been turned over on it’s head, a reversal of before. He was the one being preened, not the one doing the preening. His hindbrain was insistent that Sam was safe, and that he was flock, while his regular brain didn’t trust him. A reversal of with Techno, with his regular brain wanting to trust his older brother and his hindbrain thinking otherwise.

Tommy took a deep breath, annoyance rippling through him. The difference in thought processes were confusing, two halves of his mind trying to rip him in two different directions. The bird brain was strong too, and he knew it wasn’t going to give into his rational one.

“You can start again, if you still want to do it,” Tommy mumbled, forcing his wings to open once more. His bird brain seemed satisfied with this action, chirping appreciatively when Sam’s fingers started combing through his feathers again.

There’s a startled laugh from behind him, and Sam’s hands still for a moment. “Is that a good sign?”

Tommy flushed. “What?”

“The chirp?”

“I— I fuckin’— fuck. Uh... yeah, I guess. I didn’t—” laughter was bubbling up in his mouth and escaping without him noticing. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“But it’s a good thing, right? Means I’m doing this correctly?”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing.”

Sam resumed his previous actions of laying the feathers properly, gently tugging out the ones that were broken. The bird brain continued to coo at this, but Tommy tried his best to make sure they weren’t audible. Based on the laughs Sam gave every now and then, he correctly assumed he wasn’t always successful.

He still wasn’t able to fully relax, because the bird brain was still chanting “flock” in the back of his head and that is NOT what he needed to start saying just because he didn’t have a filter. Techno, Wilbur, and Phil had all done that before, but Tommy refused to do that in front of Sam. Sam was just helping, nothing more.

Despite his thankfulness that Sam was helping him, it still felt bad, in a sense. At least, to his rational brain it felt bad. His bird brain disagreed, but that was beside the point.

His first preen should’ve been done ages ago, back when his feathers first grew in, and by Phil, Wilbur, and Techno. That’s how he always expected all of this to go. His family was supposed to stay and help him.

But look how it turned out? He was alone for his manifestation, he was relying on someone he barely knew to preen his feathers for the first time, and his wings were stunted and disfigured. Hell, Wilbur, Techno, and Phil wouldn’t even be around to teach him to fly, because he’d never even get that far.

“You know, even if your wings don’t grow bigger, maybe I can make something that’ll assist you with flying,” Sam said, half to himself, as if reading Tommy’s thoughts. “Not like a prosthetic, I guess, but like... a harness?”

Tommy furrowed his brows as Sam’s hands stopped laying his feathers and ran down the top of his wing, feeling the muscle on the outside edges.

“I’d have to study wing anatomy a bit more,” Sam mused. “But if I lay a wire down following the same shape as your wing, and use leather to create proper folds... I think that could work. I’d have to make it comfortable, too, use something to prevent irritation...”

“What are you saying?” Tommy croaked out, feeling his hands start to shake slightly, but he tried to hide it by burying them into Wilbur’s coat.

“I’m saying that regardless of whether your wings heal properly or not, I think you will still be able to fly,” Sam told him confidently. “I’d probably need your help with measurements, and anatomy, and how flying actually works for you, but I think I could make a harness of sorts. It’ll add a few feet to your wingspan, I think. You’d have to build up more muscle in them in order to get them to keep you up, but the harness might be able to keep you stable in the air.”

As nice as that sounded, Tommy knew better.

He yanked his wings away from Sam’s grip and stood up, folding the stupid things close to his back.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he said softly, anger leaking in his tone. “Don’t do that. Don’t give me hope.”

Sam’s eyes were fully of pity when Tommy turned around to face him. “Tommy—”

“Why would you even do that?” Tommy whispered, his voice cracking as he tried to suppress a sob. “Why would you build me a thing to fly if it won’t even work? Why would you waste your time? Why are you helping me, Sam? What are you planning? _What do you want with me?!_ ”

His voice had gotten louder and more desperate the longer he had continued, breaking at the end as he desperately tried to hide his tears.

The bird brain made unhappy noises in the back of his head,

Sam’s eyes softened. “You’re a kid, you’re _sixteen_ , Tommy. Sometimes I think everyone on this server has forgotten that except for me. You’ve been through so much, cared for so little. You shouldn’t have had to watch your brother die, or experience the betrayal of your family on more than one occasion. You shouldn’t be on your last life when others, much older than you, still have all three. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with this on your own. You deserve to be _happy_. To have someone to run to without strings attached, to help you and care for you unconditionally. Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur, Niki, hell even Tubbo, they’ve all proven that they will not be that person for you. So I want to be.”

Tommy stilled, trembling as he stared up at Sam, practically having to crane his neck up since the man was a good foot taller than him.

“I will be,” Sam promised. “If you let me.”

Tommy swallowed, glancing down as he felt his wings droop, no longer being held so stiffly.

Before he even knew it, he was throwing himself into Sam’s chest.

The creeper hybrid let out a soft “oof” as Tommy clung to him, hands coming around and latching tightly onto the back of Sam’s hoodie. Tears were pricking his vision and soaking into Sam’s shoulder, and he couldn’t stop the hiccuping sobs that escaped him.

“I just want everything to go back to normal,” he croaked, feeling his wings shakily wrapping around them both as well. “I just want them to be happy. I want everyone to be happy again.”

Slowly, hesitantly, he felt Sam hug him back. Arms coming up and wrapping around Tommy protectively, one hand ending up in between Tommy’s shoulder blades, in between his wings, and the other cradling the back of Tommy’s head.

And there, that’s what the bird brain wanted. Once Sam started to hug him back, his rational brain and hindbrain were aligned. Despite the tears running down his cheeks, this was the happiest he’d felt in weeks, maybe even months. Because there wasn’t any reason to be afraid, here with Sam.

“I can’t promise that everything will go back to normal,” Sam admitted. “But I can promise that you’re safe here, with me. No strings attached, I promise.”

And even though Tommy didn’t want to believe him, even though he didn’t think he _could_ believe him, all the tension went out of his body all at once as soon as he heard those words.

“That’s all I want,” Tommy admitted. “Just to be safe with no strings attached.”

Sam pulled away enough to look down at Tommy. His eyes were crinkling again, in the way that meant he was smiling. “I can do that.”

* * *

“Sam, big man, Big S, Awesamdude, when you said we were going to build up muscle in my wings, this is NOT what I thought you had in mind,” Tommy laughed nervously as the wind buffeted him. They were so very high up, and he didn’t like this ONE BIT.

After weeks of research, tying rocks to his wings and making him hold them out to strengthen them, stretching them, and essentially staying in his base the majority of the time, Tommy’s wings were slowly starting to improve.

He wasn’t allowed to hide his wings under the coat, in fear of losing their progress, so Tommy didn’t exactly go outside much. They were doing this at night, where no one could see them, because Tommy still didn’t want anyone seeing his wings until he was ready, which Sam supported.

And now he was being shown the next step in their plan to build a harness to help him fly.

A plan that involved a massive tower with a level platform at the top, that Sam had built for this intended purpose these past few weeks.

“It’s safe, I promise,” Sam was busy hooking some kind of leather cord to some clamps in the center of the pillar. “It’ll help you build up your flying muscles, and will help me try to figure what shape I’m going to need for the harness.”

“The minute I open my wings up here, I’m going to get blown off!” Tommy shouted over the roaring wind. “And then I’m gonna go splat!” The tower had been lit with glow stone, the gusts from this high up would probably blow out any torch or lantern.

“There’s water at the bottom,” Sam reminded him. “And you’re not going to get blown off. Put this on.”

Tommy was handed a leather chest piece, soft yet sturdy, with room for his wings in the back. It had a metal hook dug into the front.

With a bit of trial and error, he managed to pull the thing on.

“How’s it fit? Not too tight? You can move your wings alright?” Sam asked, holding the other end of the cord that also had some kind of hook on the end.

“Fits fine.”

“Good,” Sam hooked the cord to the front of his leather chestpiece, tugging on it for a moment before nodding. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

Sam’s eyes crinkled at him, and he took few steps back. “Spread your wings, then.”

Tommy glanced at him nervously, shifting his wings. In the weeks that he’d spent with him, the creeper hybrid hadn’t lied to him once. If Sam said he wouldn’t fall, then he most likely wouldn’t.

Ignoring the fear that plagued his rational brain, Tommy oh so carefully extended his wings.

With a screech, he was, as predicted, swept off the platform by the wind.

The cord pulled tight, and he yelped as he was stopped from plummeting to his death. The wind was blowing hard enough that he wasn’t even below the top platform of the ladder, nor that far from it. But the frantic, useless beating of his wings to keep himself aloft was just making him sink.

“Spread your wings!” Sam shouted over the wind.

“That’s what got me into this mess in the FIRST PLACE!” Tommy retorted.

“Just lift them up! Keep them level, like you’re gliding. The wind should carry you up! Don’t flap.”

Tommy, reluctantly, did as he was told, stilling his wings and tilting them upwards slightly to catch the wind.

He yelped again as the wind practically shot him upward, the cord pulling taught again. He flailed for a moment, before righting himself and keep his wings in the same position as before, open and not daring to move them.

Despite the wind howling in his ears and buffeting his clothes and feathers, he was actually staying upright. And not, y’know, falling to his death.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, barely able to hear himself over the air rushing past him.

Stars glittered above his head, and he could practically see the whole SMP from this high up. There was the crater, the hotel build site, the prison, Eret’s castle.

He was _flying_.

Maybe he wasn’t flying in the true sense of the word, but fuck it, he didn’t care. Neither did the bird brain. He may not be flapping his wings or actually going anywhere, but dammit, he was _flying_!

“HOLY SHIT!” Tommy crowed, glancing down at Sam, who was looking up at him. “I’m flying! I’m flying Sam!”

Sam had his mask off, the scales adoring his cheeks like freckles reflected the light of the glow stone. He was grinning up at him, fangs on display but not in a threatening way. “You sure are!” he called up to Tommy, who grinned in response.

It felt right. It felt perfect. He was where he needed to be, up in the air without a care in the world. Despite the slowly growing ache in his wings and the tug on his chest from where he was tethered to the tower instead of soaring free like he longed to, he was having the time of his life.

If he was this happy with just _gliding_ , how would real flying feel?

For the first time since he had grown his wings, he couldn’t wait to start flying for real.

“Hey Sam?” Tommy asked, glancing down at the creeper hybrid again. “How do I get down?”

Sam blinked. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted guiltily.

“SAM!”

* * *

“I need to stop by my house for a few things,” Tommy told Sam as they walked back from the build site of the hotel. “It’ll only take a minute.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the creeper hybrid agreed, reaching out and ruffling Tommy’s hair. The teen let out an indignant squawk, wings flaring in protest, but Sam only laughed.

“Rude,” Tommy huffed, folding his wings back into a more comfortable position.

They had taken to being out during the daytime more, since hardly anyone was around anymore. Tubbo, Niki, and Jack were all in Snowchester, as far as Tommy was aware. Ranboo was hanging out with Phil and Techno still, and everyone else was either holed up in their own bases or had left the SMP lands entirely.

So with no one around to see his wings, Tommy didn’t care much about walking around with them out.

As they walked along the Prime Path to Sam’s base, Tommy took the necessary detour to his old house, somewhere he hadn’t been in the weeks since moving in with Sam. Was he slightly giddy when the creeper hybrid followed him? Maybe. Because he fully expected Sam to keep going, but instead he was following him and making sure he was alright.

Tommy hummed as he entered his old base, rifling through his chests for what he wanted and leaving the rest to collect dust.

What caught his eye, however, was a book laying on top of his old ender chest that he didn’t remember leaving there.

Tommy picked it up, brows furrowed in confusion as he brushed a thin layer of dust off of the leather cover. It didn’t have a title, nor an author.

When he flicked it open, there was writing on the first page.

He swore his heart skipped a beat when he recognized who’s handwriting it was. His feathers twitched and hands shook as he read the page.

_Tommy,_

_In these few weeks since the destruction of L’manburg, I had hoped you would’ve come to your senses and come home. Techno thought differently, claiming you had too much pride to do such a thing. Techno’s always right, it seems._

_This whole situation is ridiculous. You’re sixteen now, Tommy, not a toddler. Stop acting like a child and throwing a tantrum just because you didn’t get your way. It’s time to come home and stop these useless antics._

_Ranboo asks about you a lot. He misses you, I can tell. He wants to see you again, but you haven’t come to see him. He’s your friend, isn’t he? What kind of friend doesn’t even send a hello every now and then via communicator?_

_I understand that you’re upset about what happened. I thought you would have realized by now that it was for your own good. I thought Wilbur_

_You’re welcome here. Techno has agreed to forgive you when you come home, but only then. However, unless you’re ready to swallow your pride and apologize for betraying your brother and I, don’t bother._

_When you come home, bring Techno’s axe. It needs to come back to it’s rightful owner._

_Philza_

“Tommy?” Sam asked, sounding worried. “Tommy, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, staring at the book with dull eyes. A violent, sticky mass of emotions was roiling around inside of his chest. He didn’t even know what he was feeling over this, let alone if he was going to be able to keep those feelings in check.

“Tommy?”

The teen felt a hot wave of _rage_ interlace its way into the mass of emotions, stronger than the rest of them. His grip on the book tightened, and he felt the feathers on his wings puff out of anger. His shoulders stiffened, and his teeth gritted.

“Tom—”

Tommy screamed, and threw the book across the room, wishing it would shatter into a million pieces so he didn’t have to look at it anymore. He wanted it gone. He wanted the words inside of it _gone_. He wanted them out of his head so he didn’t have to keep thinking about the implications of them.

Tears were rolling down his face, and he was sobbing, but anger still burned its way through him, not ceasing at all.

“Cocky son of a bitch thinks _I’m_ supposed to apologize to _him_?!” he yelled, burying his hands in his hair and tugging sharply on the strands, relieved in the sharp sting of pain it brought, as it distracted him a bit from the despair that was threatening to overtake his anger. “After everything he did?! After everything _they_ did?! He thinks I’m gonna crawl back to them like a misbehaving dog?! FUCK YOU, BITCH! DICKHEAD! ROT IN HELL!”

And just like that, the anger was gone. Replaced by anguish. Because his family, the people that were supposed to be his flock, had practically admitted they wanted nothing to do with him unless he was sniveling at their feet.

He refused to be that to anyone again. Not to Techno, not to Wilbur, not to Phil, or Tubbo, or Niki or Jack or anyone. He wouldn’t even do that for Sam, and he’d never, ever be that to Dream again.

But that didn’t make it stop hurting.

Tommy was curling in on himself, wings wrapping around his body as he dug his fingernails into his scalp. He was hyperventilating, and each breath seemed to have less and less oxygen in it. The sobbing was louder now, and he fell to his knees, shaking.

Sam was there, suddenly. He was kneeling on the ground and pulling Tommy against his chest. He was telling Tommy to breathe, urging him to match Sam’s own breathing. His hands were grabbing Tommy’s and pulling them away from his head, squeezing his fingers gently.

It took several minutes for Tommy to calm down, to pull back into reality instead of staying in the panic-inducing confines of his own mind.

The first clear thing he heard was: “Let’s go back and see Fran, how does that sound?”

Tommy agreed.

And later, if he had sat on the floor with Fran laying in his lap, and tossed that stupid book into the fireplace, watching it burn with cold anger in his eyes, that was his and Sam’s business and not anyone else’s.

* * *

“You want to try them on?”

Tommy ran his fingers over the soft, leathery material stretched out on the table. They’d spent so long on them, he was kind of afraid to put them on. But anticipation thrummed in his blood, flowing through his body with every beat of his heart. He was practically vibrating with excitement, feathers twitching.

Sam was being nice in calling them harnesses. The leather and wire was clearly prosthetic wings, tailored to specifically fit over his own. Tommy’s wings still hadn’t grown much, despite it being two months since he’d first gone to Sam for help. They were both now a little under five feet, and had been for three weeks. They weren’t getting any bigger.

The growth made his wingspan just under ten feet, still much too small to actually support his weight. Phil had a wingspan of fourteen feet, and he was the shortest of all of them. Techno had eighteen feet, and Wilbur had eighteen and a half.

Despite his wings still being small, the muscles in them had built up significantly. Tommy could glide for an hour and a half up on the tower before his wings started to get tired, and they were definitely less thin than they had been two months ago. Plus, his feathers were smooth and glossy instead of the wrinkled, crumpled mess they had been when he first came to Sam for help.

“Yeah I fucking want to try them on,” Tommy breathed, glancing at Sam with a grin. “Making sure you made them fit properly isn’t the same as trying on the finished thing.”

Sam laughed. “Turn around.”

Tommy spun around, spreading out his wings as he shook out his hands in excitement. It took all of his willpower not to rock back and forth on his feet, or to flap his wings. He wanted to get them on as soon as possible.

He felt the moment smooth leather slid over his right wing, and he wanted to burst into a pile of feathers from how exciting it was. Sam helped guide his wing through the harness, the inside of the leather almost as soft as his own feathers.

Tommy could hardly hold still as Sam buckled the straps, only responding in hums of “mhm” or “mm mm” when he was asked if the clasps were too tight or if anything was bothering him.

As soon as Sam stepped back, Tommy spun around in a circle, trying to look at the prosthetic properly. He shook out his hands again, grinning as he flapped his wing experimentally. It was an odd weight that’d he have to get used to, but he didn’t care.

Sam was laughing, sounding delighted. “Can I put the other one on?”

Tommy immediately stilled and turned to him, his grin growing impossibly wider as he practically thrust his wing against the creeper hybrid in his excitement.

Another laugh, and Tommy shook out his hands a third time as he felt the leather of the second prosthetic slide over his wing. Sam’s grip was gentle as he once again guided his wing into the proper position and started to fiddle with the clasps.

Another round of hums as answers as Sam asked about the various straps being too tight.

Once again, as soon as Sam stepped away, Tommy started flapping his wings to test out the weights of the prosthetics. They didn’t get in his way, they weren’t too heavy, and they creased and folded the same way his real ones did, without uncomfortably rubbing up against anything.

“Is the leather a problem at all?” Sam asked. “I’m worried about it chafing, since you’ll be wearing them so often. I can weave some wool into it to prevent that, if the leather’s too rough.”

“It’s fine. Better than fine. It’s great!” Tommy laughed, still moving his wings into various positions to test how well the prosthetic moved.

“There aren’t any wires poking you from the framing?”

“Nope!”

“And they’re moving fine—?”

“Sam,” Tommy stilled his spinning so he could grab onto Sam’s shoulders, still grinning his head off. “They’re perfect. Thank you. Thank you.”

Sam smiled, his fangs glinting as light reflected off of them. “Want to go try gliding with them?”

Tommy lit up. “Hell yeah!”

* * *

“I’m still skeptical about how well pushing you off the tower is going to help you fly,” Sam glanced at Tommy, who stood on the edge of the platform, practically vibrating in excitement. “I know it’s how regular birds do it, but still.”

“Instincts!” Tommy chirped, a grin on his face. “This is how Techno and Wilbur learned to fly. You just gotta push me off and the bird brain will take care of the rest. Flying’s mostly instinctual anyhow, I’m pretty sure.”

It’d been a week since they had fitted the prosthetics, and Tommy only ever took them off to shower. They were comfortable enough to sleep in, and they didn’t chafe at all, so Tommy hardly ever removed them. They’d been coming up to the tower every day to practice gliding with them, cord attached.

“I’m concerned about the harness though,” Sam pointed out. “We know it helps you glide, but we still don’t have a clue about how flying’s going to work with it.”

“It’ll be fine!” Tommy insisted. “You said it yourself, water’s at the bottom. So if I don’t get it on the first try, I still won’t be hurt.”

Sam still seemed hesitant, so Tommy sighed.

“I’ll be fine,” he repeated. “But you gotta push me or else it doesn’t work. Like, if I just jump, the instinct won’t kick in. I have to be pushed.”

“Alright,” Sam agreed reluctantly. “Be careful.”

“Careful’s my middle name, big man.”

The creeper hybrid cracked a smile, took a deep breath, and then shoved Tommy forward.

The ground disappeared beneath him, and Tommy yelped as he was now suddenly rocketing down towards the earth.

The wind was absolutely roaring in his ears. Louder and harder than it had ever been when he glided at the top of the tower. No, this was something fierce and alive, pulling at his skin, feathers, and hair, threatening to tear him apart.

He was falling too fast, too fast to breathe or think.

So he acted purely on instinct.

His wings snapped open, and he _slammed_ to a stop.

The air rushed out of his chest and his wings throbbed from the sudden change in velocity. But the wind was not yanking him in every direction anymore. In fact, a gentle breeze buffeted his feathers and hair, nipping at his clothes and at the prosthetics.

He blinked, eyes flicking below him. The ground was still a ways away, but he was aware that he was slowly drifting down towards it.

But that’s not what he wanted. He wanted to go up.

He shifted his wings, instincts rushing through him as he angled them differently. Tommy snapped them upwards, and then forced them down, angling his body towards the sky.

Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, because something had slotted itself into place. This is what he was looking for, the last piece of the puzzle. It felt right. He was FLYING.

“I’M FUCKING FLYING!” He called as he shot past the top of the tower, a big dumb grin on his face. Laughter was ringing out in the sky, from him and from Sam, who was now below him.

Tommy flipped over in the air, his back now facing the ground as he stilled his wings and let himself fall. The wind was roaring again, trying to ensnare him in it’s clutches.

But he didn’t let it, only falling for a few seconds before righting himself and propelling himself upwards once more.

Sam was grinning at him from the tower, one hand raised to block the sun from bothering his eyes. And Tommy grinned right back, because he was FLYING. HE WAS FLYING!

Another laugh erupted from him as he banked hard left, trusting on his instincts to tell him how to fly. He turned sharply in the air, just as he wanted to.

When he dipped his wings down, he went into a dive that could steepen when he folded his wings closer to him. Pushing one wing down and the other up sent him sideways into a tight turn. Tilting his wings up just a bit made him slow down. Flapping wasn’t necessary all the time to stay aloft, as it turned out that gliding was easy with how much length the prosthetics gave him.

Up in the air, it was more clear how much larger his wings seemed to be was with the leather harness. The leather put each wing at what he assumed to be roughly seven feet long, making his wingspan around fourteen feet.

But he wasn’t worrying about that. He was _flying_.

Once his wings started aching, though, he knew the jig was up.

It turned out, flying took a lot more work than just gliding, obviously. While he could glide for about an hour or more without breaks, by the time he was twenty minutes into flying, he was getting tired.

As much as Tommy loved it, he really would rather _not_ go plummeting to the ground because his wings were too sore to keep him up.

So he dipped down once more, flying maybe a foot or two above the water and dipping his fingers into the surface as he went, leaving tiny waves in his wake.

Tommy wiped his fingers off on his shirt, tilted himself upwards, and shot upwards toward the platform of the tower.

He landed unsteadily, making himself fall over with a thump, wings twitching as they folded shut, grateful for the break.

Before Sam could ask if he was alright, Tommy sat up with a grin. “That was awesome.”

Sam smiled. “So they work then?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, before lunging and tackling Sam into a hug. The creeper hybrid stumbled back with a laugh, but hugged him back regardless.

“They work,” Tommy confirmed, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes as he buried his face against the taller man’s chest. “They work. They’re _perfect_. I was _flying_. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you. Fuck, _thank you_ Dad.”

The teen immediately froze as soon as the word slipped out, his jaw snapping shut with audible click. He knew Sam heard it to, based on the way he stiffened in the hug.

“Sorry,” he immediately started to apologize. “Sorry. It slipped out. Sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“No, uh, it’s fine,” Sam laughed quietly. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Tommy pulled away, wringing out his hands nervously and keeping his eyes to the floor. “Thanks again, for the— the things,” he mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” Sam reached out and ruffled Tommy’s hair, making the teen look up. “Son.”

“Don’t call me that, I will cry,” Tommy threatened weakly, wiping away the few tears that managed to slip out.

But he couldn’t stop himself from looking up and meeting Sam’s eyes, a soft smile spread across his face that the creeper hybrid mirrored.

He couldn’t stop the warmth bubbling up in his chest because Sam called him _son_ , he was okay with Tommy calling him _dad_.

Tommy could fly, and Sam cared about him. More than Phil had, and Phil was his biological father.

But in the end, Wilbur had raised him anyhow. Phil had been a positive point in Tommy’s life for all of a couple weeks, when Tommy was still staying with Techno.

Maybe things would be alright.

He had Sam by his side. Maybe even Tubbo too, if Jack Manifold ever decided to fuck off. Ghostbur, if he showed up again. Puffy had been around lately, helping him and Sam and offering him advice, was she on his side?

Maybe Tommy wasn’t as alone as he thought he’d been.

Maybe he could rely on other people.

Maybe he could finally cut all of those who didn’t truly care about him out of his life. He’d thought it was just Dream, but it was clear now that Phil and Techno were too, Jack and Niki as well.

It’s time to move on. Time to move forward.

Time to fly.


	2. Confrontation

The hotel was a raging success.

Well, not really. He didn’t get very many people staying there, but everyone seemed to like the idea! Tubbo came down from Snowchester to visit a lot more with the hotel being finished, the people from the Badlands stayed there every now and then. Eret would show up once a week, stay for two nights for seemingly no reason, and overpay way too much.

Tommy had tried to give it back the first few occurrences of this, but Eret would just wink at him, grin, and walk away with a swish of their tri-colored cloak. Tommy never did get an explanation for it, though he did eventually cease his efforts to repay the king. Sam seemed to know what was going on, but only smiled and told him not to worry about it when Tommy asked.

The teen had been going to therapy with Puffy, at the request of Sam. Puffy was helping him with his trauma from exile, and from the various other events that had happened before and since then.

Tubbo was around more often, coming down for three days out of every week to visit. The first thing he did when he saw Tommy had wings, and prosthetics, was apologize for not being there. That had led to a massive crying session that they both conveniently “forgot” about once it was over.

It was good to have Tubbo back, without the awkwardness or the carefully chosen words. It was good to have the real Tubbo back.

Jack and Niki hadn’t been around for a while. Tommy hadn’t even heard anything about them from Tubbo, which was surprising considering Tubbo lived with them. But as long as they stayed away from him, he didn’t really care.

Tommy had dyed the tips of the leather prosthetics gold, in homage to Wilbur’s golden feathers, the gold accents that Sam wore, and the soft yellows of Tubbo’s bees. The three people that Tommy knew for a fact cared about him.

Tommy knew that Wilbur, despite not being in his right mind in the end, still loved him, and always had.

Tubbo had been by his side for as long as Tommy could remember, and though Tommy couldn’t 100% forgive him for exiling him and everything that had happened as a result, they still cared for each other utterly and completely.

Sam was a no-brainer. He built Tommy’s wings, he helped him realize (with Puffy’s help) that he didn’t need to be alone and that having trauma because of what happened to him was okay. Sam gave him shelter, he cared for him, protected him. He was Tommy’s father in every sense of the word that mattered. He was more of a father than Phil had ever been.

Life was good.

Tommy could fly, Tubbo was around more often, Sam cared about him, Puffy was helping him with his issues, there weren’t conflicts, and Tommy hadn’t even wanted to go see Dream in weeks.

But all good things must come to an end.

“Tubbo!”

Tommy watched the older teen practically jump out of his skin through the glass window with a grin.

Tubbo whipped around towards the balcony of his hotel room, eyes wide with an indignant and slightly annoyed look on his face.

Tommy waved at him, before pointing in the direction of the balcony door, still grinning his head off. His wings twitched with excitement, but he kept them folded for now.

Tubbo rolled his eyes and walked out of view of the window. Tommy heard something in the balcony door click, and the door opened with a sigh from the person behind it.

Tubbo stepped out onto the balcony and crossed his arms, trying to look annoyed, but failing, considering there was a smile on his face.

“What have I told you about coming to visit from the balcony?” Tubbo demanded in a whisper-shout, with no heat behind his words as Tommy snorted. “Why don’t you use the normal door? Like a normal person? You own the hotel! You can literally come into my room any time if you came in through the inside because you have a key!”

“It’s funny,” Tommy whispered back.

They were being quiet due to how late it was, being pitch black outside with how cloudy it was. Also because Eret was staying in the room next to Tubbo’s, and Punz had shown up an hour ago, currently stationed across the hall. They were both most likely asleep, and waking them was, y’know, a horrible idea.

Tubbo sighed, rolling his eyes again with a barely hidden grin. “What couldn’t wait until morning?”

Tommy grabbed Tubbo’s arm, his wings half-unfolding in anticipation. “Come fly with me.”

“What?” Tubbo gaped. “Can— that is such a bad idea! Can you even hold my weight? What if you drop me?”

“I won’t drop you!” Tommy insisted. “Plus, we can stay low if you want. Please? I’ll be able to carry you, I promise. Just twenty minutes, then I’ll plop you back here like nothing happened.”

“Tommy—”

“Ten minutes?”

“That’s—”

“Five?”

“That’s not the point!” Tubbo said quickly in order to get them all out before Tommy interrupted him again. He lowered his voice once more with a sigh. “That’s not the point,” the brunette told him softly. “I don’t care about how long it is, or how low you fly. I don’t want you to strain yourself, or get hurt and potentially lose all the progress you’ve made for this. It’d crush you if you couldn’t fly again, it’d crush me knowing that it was partly my fault.”

Tommy fell silent for a moment, wings drooping, before grabbing onto Tubbo’s hands and squeezing them gently. “I can do this,” he told him, eyes shining with determination. “We’ll keep it short, only five minutes. The moment I get tired or it gets to be too much, I’ll land, even if we have to walk back. I promise. Just... come fly with me?”

Tubbo took a deep breath, glancing at the younger teen warily before finally conceding with a: “if you’re sure.”

Tommy immediately brightened up, grinning once more. “I am sure! I’ve never been more sure in my life. That’s me, TommyInnit, biggest man ever, completely 100% sure.”

Tubbo laughed, and Tommy lit up even more. “How are you going to carry me?” Tubbo asked with a raised eyebrow. “I can’t exactly ride on your back without interfering.”

“The same way I was always carried growing up,” Tommy told him confidently. “Sorry about this.”

“Sorry about whaAAAAA—!”

Tommy had grabbed Tubbo, spun him around until the brunette’s back was to Tommy’s chest, and promptly jumped off the balcony.

“I hate this, fuck you, fuck this, no,” Tubbo gasped, eyes screwed shut, as Tommy laughed and beat his wings to raise up higher before leveling out. The older teen was frantically trying to find a way to hold onto Tommy comfortably, but he couldn’t do much other than grab Tommy’s forearms with a death grip.

“Pull your legs up, their dead weight right now,” Tommy instructed the brunette, glancing down at Tubbo’s dangling feet that pointed straight to the ground, instead of being parallel like his own were..

“What do you mean, pull my legs up?!” Tubbo retorted.

“It means, raise them up!” Tommy shouted back. “They’ll drag us down if they keep dangling like that. Hook your feet around the backs of my ankles.”

Tubbo, slowly, did so. Tommy could feel the toes of the boy’s boots on the tendons in the backs of his feet. There wasn’t any weight dragging them down now, thankfully.

“Now open your eyes,” Tommy muttered, a grin spreading out on his face. “I know it’s scary that you can’t hold onto me, but I won’t drop you, I promise.”

Tommy couldn’t see when Tubbo opened his eyes, due to the fact he was trying to ensure they didn’t fly into anything, but he could hear the older teen’s reaction. The way he gasped and cursed softly under his breath.

They weren’t too high up, but they were flying directly over the Holy Lands. The lights glowing from below them and reflecting off the thick cloud cover above them.

“Holy shit,” Tubbo whispered, just barely audible over the wind blowing past them.

Tommy laughed. “You haven’t even seen what it’s like above the clouds at night yet.”

“Show me! If you can, of course...”

“Of course I can.”

It was true, Tommy’s wings weren’t hurting yet. His spine and shoulders were growing a little sore from carrying Tubbo, but his wings weren’t, so he figured it was fine for now. He wasn’t going to be doing anything fancy anyways, just gliding, so it wouldn’t take very much out of him.

He hoped.

Tommy angled his wings upwards and flapped hard, propelling the both of them towards the clouds.

With a poof, and a rush of cold, wet air, they were inside the cloud, but emerged from the top just a second later. Tommy shook the water off his wings and stayed close to the surface of the clouds as he flew. The younger teen listened with an amused grin on his face as Tubbo reacted to this.

The moonlight reflecting off the tops of the clouds really was a pretty sight. And you could see the stars so much more clearly from up here, away from all the lanterns and torches that made them hide.

Tubbo loosened his grip on Tommy’s arm, and the younger teen glanced down just in time to see Tubbo trailing his fingers through the clouds and giggling.

Tommy rolled his eyes, unable to hide his grin. Even though he couldn’t see Tubbo’s face, he could imagine the older boy was beaming right now.

This high up, Tommy didn’t have to worry about them running into anything. Hardly anyone built up this far, so he could take a minute to close his eyes and just breathe, try to savor the moment.

So that’s exactly what he did.

His eyes closed, and he tried to stay in the moment, just like Puffy had been telling him to. He tried to relax and just enjoy it.

But that didn’t last long.

Tubbo stiffened in Tommy’s grip, his hand tightening around the younger teen’s arms.

“Tommy,” Tubbo whispered, just barely audible over the wind. “What is that?”

Tommy opened his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows. Tubbo was pointing at a shadow on the clouds a few hundred feet away.

A shadow that should.... not be there.

Tommy’s gaze shifted up, slowly and warily.

There was a silhouette above the spot on the clouds, hard to make out with how dark it was. Tommy couldn’t make any defining features of it.

Other than the dark shapes of two large, feathered wings.

Wings that were much to large to be any type of regular bird.

Wings who, while Tommy couldn’t tell who it was, could only belong to one of two people (because Ghostbur didn’t cast shadows).

Wings who belonged to a person that was headed right for him.

“Tubbo,” Tommy whispered, tightening his grip on the boy. “Hold on tight.”

The brunette complied, grabbing onto Tommy’s forearms tight enough to potentially cut off circulation, but neither teen was really concerned about that at the moment.

Tommy brought his wings in closer, eyes locked on the person (either Phil, Techno, neither of whom he wanted to see) who was still flying towards them.

Before he folded them in completely, and he and Tubbo dropped like a stone.

Tubbo screamed, understandably.

“Shhh!” Tommy snapped as the wind roared past them, breaking through the clouds and land becoming visible once more. They were off the coast, near the prison that contained Dream.

Tommy could work with that.

He snapped out his wings, the leather folds catching and the wires creaking from the force, but they held. The two of them slammed to a stop, but Tommy didn’t dare pause. He could hear the wingbeats behind and above him, he didn’t have time to waste.

“Grab my communicator,” Tommy instructed Tubbo, beating his wings hard in order to propel them forward in the direction of the hotel. “Message Sam, tell him we’re out flying and someone’s following us.”

Tubbo didn’t reply, but Tommy could feel him let go with one hand and reach backwards, fishing Tommy’s communicator out of his pocket with only minimal trouble. He heard the clicking of Tubbo typing, and he could only pray that Sam’s habit of sleeping lightly included waking up to com messages.

The hotel wasn’t that far, he just had to make it there. Then he could stash Tubbo away and fly easier, or just stay in the room with Tubbo instead.

Tommy’s wings _burned_ , the muscles of them straining to keep both him and Tubbo aloft. Gliding had been easier, because he wasn’t really doing any work there. But he was actually flying here, beating his wings and carrying the both of them forward. They weren’t used to carrying the weight of two people, and it showed.

But Tommy just gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep moving.

In Phil’s letter, he’d clearly stated that he wasn’t welcome in the Arctic, which was just fine with Tommy. But could his father have wanted him to stay away from them in general? Were they hunting him down to get revenge for him “betraying” them?

Tommy couldn’t take any chances, especially when he inadvertently dragged Tubbo into this.They were nearing the hotel now. It was right there. But whoever was behind him was gaining on him, so Tommy could only assume he was running out of time.

There was a loud curse from Tubbo as a dark shape crossed their path, cutting him off from the hotel.

Tommy faltered for a moment, eyes widening at the sight of Phil’s black and white wings flashing up into his vision. But adrenaline spiked through his veins, making his reflexes quicker.

He spun in the air, whirling around to double back, but Techno’s massive red feathers blocked his escape.

Well, there was only two ways out of this one.

Down or up.

Tommy folded in his wings and they dropped once more.

He could practically hear the way Tubbo was suppressing his scream as they fell again, and not wanting to give any more terror to the older teen, he snapped his wings out to catch them only after a few seconds.

Wasting no time with both Phil and Techno hot on his tail, Tommy went up, back towards the clouds. Maybe he could lose them in the dense cloud cover? It was doubtful, but also their only shot at this point.

“Oh, clouds again,” Tubbo sounded strained.

“Clouds again,” Tommy confirmed, preparing to level out as the clouds drew nearer and nearer. His plan was to fly inside the clouds instead of above like he had before, and hope that the dark brown of the leather was enough to hide his bright colored feathers, and that the golden dye on the material wasn’t too noticeable.

Tommy overshot his intended target. He hurtled up straight through the clouds instead of staying inside of the cover instead.

And he crashed straight into something else.

Or rather, someone, considering there were three surprised yelps that sounded out in the sky afterwards. One from Tommy, one from Tubbo, and one from the person above them.

Tommy struggled to right himself and Tubbo after the crash, flapping his increasingly-sore wings to get them oriented correctly again.

He glanced up, wondering how the fuck Techno or Phil managed to get above him so quickly, and almost caused him and Tubbo to fell out of the sky with how his wings faltered.

Wilbur was hovering there, staring at him with wide, dark eyes. Not Ghostbur, _Wilbur_. Because Ghostbur didn’t cause drafts when he flapped his wings. Ghostbur couldn’t physically touch Tommy, he just went right through. Ghostbur was transparent, grayscale.

But this was _Wilbur_. This was Wilbur because there was actual color in his skin. This was Wilbur because Tommy could feel the small bursts of wind that were sent his way by his older brother’s dark brown and gold wings. This was Wilbur because Tommy had just crashed into him, and he had been solid and warm and real.

“Tommy?” Wilbur asked, genuine confusion laced in his tone. “Tubbo? What the hell?”

His voice wasn’t high pitched and echoey like Ghostbur’s, nor did it have the maniacal edge to it that had interlaced itself into his brother’s words in his last few months of being alive.

No, this sounded like _Wilbur_. The Wilbur that had sang to him as a child, the one who had led him against Dream, the one who had loved him and cared for him and was sane.

Tommy was completely and utterly frozen, save for the instinctual flapping of his wings to keep himself and Tubbo aloft and not falling to their deaths. Tubbo, similarly, was stiff in his grip. Though the blonde couldn’t see the older teen’s face, he had to imagine it looked a lot like how he felt. With dozens of emotions rushing through them at once, but the most prominent being shock.

“Wilbur?” Tubbo whispered, but Tommy could just barely hear him. Whether that was due to the wind from their wings, how quiet that single word had been said, or because he wasn’t fully aware of what was happening, he didn’t know.

Something vibrated against his arm from where Tubbo clutched his com, signifying that someone had messaged him. It brought Tommy out of his stupor only slightly.

The flash of red feathers, of black feathers, was what brought him out of it fully.

Tommy panicked, and his wings folded inwards to wrap around and protect Tubbo.

Meaning they plummeted through the sky for the third time that night.

“TOMMYYYY—!” Tubbo screamed blood murder, which, fair. Tommy couldn’t even stop the instinctual fear that thudded in his chest.

“I’m working on it!” He snapped.

They weren’t in a dive like the other two times. They were actually _falling_. As in spiraling around, feet over head, not pointing towards the ground like they had been before.

He flung his wings outward, and they once again _slammed_ to a stop.

Tommy desperately wanted to fling himself into actively flying once more, but his wings sang in protest. His wings weren’t alright, something becoming more and more apparent even despite the adrenaline that had been beating through his veins for a while.

He was forced to pause, holding a glide. His shoulders, back, and the muscles closest to his spine in his wings all throbbed from his effort to keep both him and Tubbo aloft and away from Techno, Phil, and now Wilbur too.

Tommy could practically feel the concern radiating off of Tubbo, but he only allowed himself a few seconds of reprieve. Once he heard three pairs of wings nearing him, he forced himself to move.

The hotel was, thankfully, in sight. A figure was standing on the roof, and while they were much too far away for Tommy to be able to tell who it was, hope flooded through his chest at the sight of them.

“Hold on tight,” he grunted to Tubbo through gritted teeth. The brunette didn’t respond, mostly because he already had a grip tight enough that it was practically cutting of circulation to Tommy’s arms.

The blonde pulled Tubbo impossibly closer to his chest and practically threw them both forward with how hard he started beating his wings. The wind howled fiercely at them as he flew, practically screeching in Tommy’s ears, but he didn’t care.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Tommy muttered under his breath. The pain in his wings and back was practically becoming unbearable now, but he didn’t dare slow down. They were so close, they were so close, the hotel was right there!

Oh fuck, how was he going to land with Tubbo?

There wasn’t time for that, because he needed to land, and he needed to land now. He could more clearly pick out Sam as the person on the roof now as they neared it.

Fuck. His wings were burning, he couldn’t keep this up, but they were so _close_.

With no other options left, Tommy inhaled, aimed for the roof, wrapped his wings around Tubbo to protect him, and dove, eyes squeezing shut.

There were a heart-stopping few seconds of falling. Of wind rustling his hair and pulling at his clothes, full of anticipation and fear. He didn’t know if they would make it to the roof, he didn’t even know what would happen if they didn’t. He didn’t want to know, but still he was terrified.

But after those few seconds, Tommy slammed into the flat, stone roof of the hotel back-first. The impact caused all the air in his lungs to rush out of him, and a grunt accompanied the agony that shot up his spine and down his wings from the crash.

He heard something snap.

He didn’t have time to worry about it.

The momentum of hitting the roof caused them to roll with the impact, and Tommy was focused on keeping Tubbo safe from the crash and whatever may happen afterwards.

They finally managed to stop, Tommy grunting slightly as they managed to stop in a way that both he and Tubbo were laying on one of his wings. The dull throb that radiated from both of his extra limbs was practically the only thing that Tommy could focus on for a few moments.

He exhaled sharply as he forced his wings to unwind from around Tubbo, freeing the younger teen.

“I’m never doing that again,” Tommy informed him as the brunette climbed off of his wing.

“Me neither,” Tubbo agreed.

“Are you both alright?” Sam asked, crouching down beside them both with a worried look on his face. He was wearing full netherite, instead of his normal golden chestplate and boots. His trident was laid on the ground beside Tommy as the creeper hybrid helped the blonde into a sitting position. “You landed pretty hard.”

“I’m fine,” Tubbo sounded worried as well. “But I heard something snap when we were rolling.”

Tommy shrugged. He was pretty sure nothing was broken, either in his wings or anywhere else. He’d broken plenty of his bones before, that kind of pain wasn’t what he was feeling right now.

“Nothing’s broken,” he hummed, shifting his wings to prove his point and wincing slightly. His left was hurting considerably more than his right was, though he wasn’t sure why.

Ah, wait.

Tommy immediately stilled his left wing and felt a sheepish smile worm up on his face, as if he was a child caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “There it is. I know what snapped now.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows, but before he could ask what was wrong, the thudding of boots hit the roof.

“Tommy!” Wilbur shouted, sounding breathless, from the other side of the hotel roof. His wings were still half-spread as he ran towards the three of them.

He was stopped, however, by the tip of Sam’s trident being pointed an inch away from his throat once he got near enough.

“I think that’s close enough,” Sam hissed, gunpowder wafting through the air with his words. Tommy’s hands clenched into fists in order to keep himself in the moment, instead of spiraling in a whirl of bad memories and bloodstained feathers.

Tubbo’s fingers intertwined with his, forcing Tommy to grab onto him instead of digging his nails into his palms. He squeezed them gratefully.

“Let’s calm down, shall we?” Techno landed in a crouch, straightening up and placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. His head tilting to the side. “Don’t want to do anything you would regret.”

Phil landed a moment later, gaze drifting over to Tommy and Tubbo on the ground and blanching. His eyes widened, locked specifically on Tommy, and the blonde teen glared right back, drawing up his right wing defensively while leaving his left where it was.

Moving his left probably wasn’t the best idea at the moment, after all.

“Tommy?” Phil asked, sounding astonished. “What— you— you _manifested_?”

“Yeah, dickhead, I manifested,” Tommy snapped, feeling his feathers bristle. Techno’s snapped around towards Tommy with a stunned look. “As if it wasn’t fucking obvious. How else would I be, y’know, flying away from you fuckers while you were chasing me?”

“We’re your fl—”

“What the hell are you _wearing_?” Techno asked incredulously, staring at the gold and brown dappled prosthetics.

Tommy scowled, every muscle in his body tensing. “ _None_ of your _fucking business_ ,” he replied venomously.

There was a startled silence afterwards, and even the wind seemed to still in shock because of his words. The air on the roof was thick with tension, but not a word was spoken between the six of them for several seconds.

“Tommy, can I explain?” Wilbur asked, his voice so quiet Tommy almost didn’t hear it, even despite how silent it had been. “Without a trident pointed at my neck?”

Tommy was ashamed to admit that he hesitated, albeit briefly. It was only a second, but it was enough to be noticed. It was enough to show the five of them how little he truly trusted those three, the three people who he’d once called his flock.

They were not his flock anymore. That title belonged to Sam, to Puffy, to Tubbo. Hell, it belonged to _Eret_ more than it belonged to Phil, Techno, or Wilbur.

“You don’t have to hold him at knifepoint, Sam,” Tommy finally said, the venom gone from his voice when addressing his dad, but his eyes were still cold and unforgiving as he glared at the three winged men.

Sam also hesitated, but he reluctantly withdrew his trident from where it had been, mere inches from the Wilbur’s neck, after a few seconds. He didn’t dare let go, or even move to put it away. It was gripped just as tightly, just pointed away from the tall brunette.

“You’re alive,” Tommy leveled his gaze at Wilbur, trying to hide the slight tremor in his voice. “I crashed into you, I didn’t go through you. You’re alive. How?”

“Turns out Schlatt’s resurrection book isn’t the only copy in existence,” Wilbur said wryly, a nervous smile quirking up on his face. “Phil found it in a library in... an ancient temple underground I think. They were translating all the books inside when they came across—”

“How were you flying?” Phil interrupted, gaze leveling at Tommy. The question was more like a demand, as if he was entitled to the answer. “Who taught you? Why didn’t you come home when you felt your manifestation coming?”

“Sam taught me,” Tommy said nonchalantly, glancing over at Sam and his glaresoftening for a moment, before it snapped back to normal as soon as he looked back towards Phil, Techno, and Wilbur. “He taught me to fly, considering none of you bothered to come ‘round.”

“ _Sam_ taught you to fly?” Phil looked furious, and it was taking all of Tommy’s willpower not to shrink back. “He isn’t even avian! You let an nonavian teach you to fly?”

“Phil, stop,” Wilbur said, turning towards their father.

“You didn’t answer that last question. Why didn’t you come home when you felt your manifestation coming?” Techno demanded. “You would’ve known weeks beforehand.”

“Well, you made it very clear with that letter of yours that I wasn’t welcome there unless I groveled at your feet for forgiveness,” Tommy sneered, shakily getting to his feet. His right wing raised defensively, the feathers fluffing up in an instinctual effort to make himself look bigger. His left remained on the ground, but the feathers also fluffed up. “And I’m not groveling to anyone again. Not to you, not to Wilbur, not to Phil, not to _Dream_ , not to Tubbo, not to Sam. No one.”

Tubbo squeezed his hand, standing up beside him and tucking himself shoulder to shoulder with Tommy. Sam was on Tubbo’s other side, drawing nearer and resting a hand on the younger teen’s shoulder reassuringly.

“We weren’t asking you to grovel,” Techno said gruffly. “I just wanted an apology. A _sincere_ one. For your betrayal.”

“My betrayal?!” Tommy exploded, gripping Tubbo’s hand tighter as his left wing raised, slowly and painfully, to a similar position to his right. He ignored the dark stain that was on the concrete where it had been laying. “My _betrayal_?! Are you fucking kidding me? I never betrayed you!”

“You’re saying that teaming up with the leader of the country that we were trying to destroy wasn’t betrayal?!” Techno shouted right back, making Tommy’s feathers quiver slightly in fear. “The leader of the country that killed Wilbur, that imprisoned Phil, that tried to kill _me_?!”

“No! It wasn’t!” Tommy snapped back. “Because Tubbo and I made a deal, okay?! I was going to join L’manburg as a spy, and “fight” for it, but in the end we weren’t going to stop you from blowing it up! Neither of us!”

“You still fought me on Doomsday!”

“Because you teamed up with Dream!” Tubbo jumped in, sounding furious. He was holding onto Tommy’s hand just as tightly as the blonde was to his.

“If you had waited ten minutes, we would have told you the plan!” Tommy continued, bristling. “Ten _fucking_ minutes! But no, you go out and you team up with Dream, the one guy I wasn’t willing to fight with!”

“If that had been the plan all along, why wouldn’t you tell me?!” Techno demanded. “So I can prepare for that kind of situation! We wouldn’t have teamed up with Dream if I had known!”

“We needed to actually fucking sell it, and you’re a terrible fucking liar!” Tommy shouted. “We needed to convince Dream that I was truly on L’manburg’s side, that I truly had betrayed you, and you knowing about the plan beforehand would’ve ruined it! We needed a real reaction, real fury, real shock!”

“Something you, quite frankly, couldn’t pretend to have been betrayed even if it was saved your life,” Tubbo remarked dryly.

“Why the hell is Dream the focus on all of this?” Phil asked, no, demanded. “Why—”

“That’s enough,” Wilbur cut him off, turning around until his back was facing Tommy flaring out his wings to shield him, Tubbo, and Sam from view. “You aren’t entitled to all the answers. No one is.”

Tommy froze, eyebrows furrowing as confusion flooded into his veins, replacing the anger that had been there earlier. Tubbo’s grip on his hand lessened, but still held firm, squeezing his fingers comfortingly.

“You can’t be serious,” Phil sounded indignant, and Tommy could picture the baffled anger that was on his father’s face, shielded by his dead brother’s wings.

“I am,” Wilbur’s voice was serious, calm, but with anger hinting at his words. “What happened to Tommy in exile is none of your fucking business. You aren’t entitled to information that he shouldn’t have to give unless he wants to.”

Tommy bit his lip, tears welling up in his eyes. Because Wilbur, the one from Pogtopia, wouldn’t do this. His Wilbur would. Pogtopia Wilbur wouldn’t have given two fucks about Phil and Techno demanding answers from him, but His Wilbur would do this exact thing. His Wilbur had done this exact thing. A lot, actually. When they were growing up and during the L’manburg war.

But another thing that this meant was that Wilbur remembered. Wilbur remembered being Ghostbur, so Wilbur _knew_. Wilbur knew about everything, everything that had happened during exile and all that Dream had done to him.

Tommy was hit by a sudden, strong sense of longing. Longing for Wilbur, his Wilbur. The Wilbur that ruffled his hair just because he knew that Tommy liked it, despite loudly saying otherwise. The Wilbur that started playful arguments between them but would always apologize when it got too far. The Wilbur that had been the one to take Tommy flying for the first time the moment that his wings were big enough to hold them both.

He’d felt this before, of course, but not this... strong. Not in a way that practically demanded he curl up against Wilbur’s side and let his brother wrap his wings around him.

It was a familiar feeling, though. He’d felt it before, when he managed to cut his leg open while helping Sam build the hotel. It hadn’t been too serious of an injury, but Sam had insisted they go home and relax for the rest of the day, and Tommy had spent the entire rest of the day clinging to the creeper hybrid because of the same emotion that he was feeling now.

Wait.

Shit.

This was a bird brain thing, wasn’t it?

Yes, it was. Because the moment that he realized, the area of his mind that he associated with his bird brain reared its head and the feeling only increased further. _“Flock”_ the bird brain whined, but even as he shifted closer to Tubbo and Sam, it did little to deter the feeling.

It wanted Wilbur.

Wilbur was still flock.

But Techno and Phil weren’t.

Tommy suddenly realized he was so _tired_. His back and wings hurt like hell. His feathers were ruffled and needed preening. He was pretty sure there was blood absolutely covering the backside of his wing and he had no idea how no one had seen it yet (the prosthetics, despite being the reason he was bleeding in the first place, were shielding his blood soaked feathers from view). He was dizzy, and sore, and really wanted to take a nap surrounded by his flock.

_“Flock”_ the bird brain crooned pathetically.

Yeah... the bird brain wasn’t exactly helping matters.

“Hey.”

Tommy jumped, startled, as he turned towards Tubbo, who was staring at him with concern in his eyes.

“You okay?” Tubbo whispered, glancing at where Wilbur and Phil were still arguing, with Techno joining in on Phil’s side.

Tommy swallowed, feeling pain pulse through his left wing again. He let it fall from his defensive position, it plopping down on the ground with another jolt of pain that laced up its way to his spine. “No,” he admitted through gritted teeth. He could feel the blood seeping through his feathers, and moving had probably only made it worse.

How funny was it that the things he made with Sam, his father, to fly were now the things that were going to keep him grounded. Of course, it was an accident. Neither of them had accounted for him landing so hard that the wire snapped and stabbed him.

He didn’t regret it, though, because Tubbo had landed safely because of it. He could deal with a stab wound, even if feeling the wire moving around in his muscles was sickening and likely only making the injury worse.

Tommy heard a soft gasp coming from his right, Tubbo staring past him and at his injured wing.

“You’re bleeding,” Tubbo whispered, eyes snapping up to meet the blonde’s eyes.

“...yeah,” Tommy agreed, smiling sheepishly. “I know. It’s not that bad. Got scraped up a bit in the landing, I’m alright.”

“Really,” Tubbo arched an eyebrow at him skeptically. “That is too much blood for it to just be a scrape.”

“Would you believe me if I told you wings bled a lot?”

“Not really, no.”

“What are you whispering about back there?” Phil demanded, ceasing his argument with Wilbur to yell at them.

“None of your fucking business, old man,” Tubbo retorted.

Wilbur looked over his shoulder at them with a grin, almost like he was trying not to laugh, and man Tommy had missed that look. He was pretty sure he hadn’t seen it since the very beginning of Pogtopia, before his older brother went insane.

“Sam, time to go,” Tubbo announced, turning to the creeper hybrid.

“Tommy’s not going anywhere,” Phil replied, and though Tommy couldn’t see his father’s face, due to it being blocked by Wilbur’s wings, he could picture the furious look that must be there. “He’s manifested now, he needs to come home and be with his flock. It’s bad enough he kept his manifestation from us because he was throwing a tantrum over L’manburg, not to mention the fact a non-avian taught him to fly.”

“I’m sure as hell not going _anywhere_ with you,” Tommy snapped back.

“Oh grow _up_ ,” Techno said, and Tommy could practically hear the way his older brother’s eyes rolled. “It’s been months, when are you going to let this go?”

“I’ve grown up plenty!” Tommy hissed, feeling his wings flaring open defensively as his feathers puffing up again to make himself look bigger, reflecting exactly how pissed he was. “I’ve fought in multiple wars! I’ve lost both of my spare lives before I’ve turned _seventeen_! Don’t speak to me about _growing up_ until you know how it feels to go through your manifestation _alone_! With no one there to help you because one of your “flock” was dead, one was off in supposed retirement, and the third was fucking playing favorites!”

There was a stunned silence, one that made Wilbur turn around with horror on his face. Tubbo pressed tighter against Tommy’s side, Sam reaching behind them and resting a hand gently on Tommy’s back, in between his wings, that the teen leaned into reflexively.

“Don’t speak to me about growing up when you have no fucking clue what I’ve been through,” Tommy wasn’t even aware of the angry tears in his eyes. “Don’t call me childish or say I’m throwing a tantrum when you teamed up with my fucking abuser, tried to kill my best friend multiple times, and then fucked off to the arctic without having the decency to even tell me you revived my older brother.”

“Okay, I will admit, not telling you we brought Wilbur back was pretty... bad,” Techno cleared his throat. “But we’re flock, alright? You need to come home.”

“We are not flock,” Tommy spat venomously. “You know that as well as I do. You remember the preening when I first showed up at your base? I may have pulled away first but you were uncomfortable too, and you can’t deny it. Think about it, and I mean really think about it. We _aren’t_ flock, not anymore. It’s time you got that through your thick skull.”

“Tommy—” Phil started to say softly, though Tommy didn’t miss the way his father’s feathers were twitching in annoyance.

“Don’t you fucking start,” he spat, cutting him off. “Don’t say a word. I don’t want to hear it. I’m done with this, I’m done with you. Go back to your hole in the arctic and never fucking come near me again. I’m not taking shit from you, or anyone else for that matter. You aren’t my flock, and even if you’re my father, you’re sure as _hell_ not my dad. The only one out of the three of you that actually gives a shit about me is Wilbur, and that’s why he’s flock, and you’re not. Stay the fuck away from me, do you hear me? _Stay the fuck away from me_.”

Silence hung over them again, save for Tommy’s deep, unsteady breathing from the pain radiating from his wing and the anger that coursed through his veins along with blood and adrenaline. There were black spots dancing over his vision, his legs unsteady and balance wobbling.

It was probably due to the blood loss, but he didn’t think it was _that_ bad. Tommy had almost fainted plenty of times, he could hold on a little while longer.

Or, that’s what he thought.

He didn’t realize he was pitching forward until Tubbo had grabbed him and pulled him against the older teen’s chest, holding onto him tightly.

“Trying to fool me with the fucking scrapes thing,” the brunette sounded pissed, but more worried than anything else. “I knew it, dickhead.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy mumbled into Tubbo’s shoulder, practically leaning his entire weight onto him. Exhaustion was pulling at him, stronger than before, despite his attempts to bat it away.

“Mhm,” Tubbo agreed sarcastically, a noise that Tommy felt more than heard, as his ears were ringing now too. Through the ringing, though, he could hear arguing again.

“Wilbur can stay,” Tommy let his eyes slip shut, grabbing fistfuls of Tubbo’s shirt and sighing as the exhaustion surged up higher and started to drag him down. “Not the other pricks though.”

Tommy was unconscious before he got a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed I changed the chapter count from 2 to 3. This was only because I saw the opportunity to leave this cliffhanger and I took it. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> formatting half of this on my phone was a pain, but eyyy wish me luck on getting a decent grade on this midterm i just halfassed my way through

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @Rose12610  
> Tumblr: @alwaysananxiousmess
> 
> Lilly I know you asked me to post it all at once _but..._
> 
> Anyway, y’all come get your Awesamdad Wingfic juice.
> 
> this was a bitch to format oh my lord


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